Captain of the ship that lay at anchor off the island. Of the others,
one was mate of the ship, and the third man was a passenger. The crew
had mutinied, the Captain told Robinson, and had put him and the other
two in irons, and the ringleaders in the mutiny had proposed to kill
them. Now they meant to leave them on the island to perish.
The Captain was so astonished at finding anybody there who proposed to
help him, that he said in his wonder: "Am I talking to a man, or to an
angel from heaven?"
"If the Lord had sent an angel, sir," said Robinson, "he would
probably have come better clothed."
Then he asked if the boat's crew had any firearms, and was told that
they had only two muskets, one of which was left in the boat. "The
rest should be easy, then," Robinson said; "we can either kill them
all, or take them prisoners, as we please."
The Captain was unwilling to see the men killed, for he said if two of
the worst of them were got rid of, he believed the rest would return
to their duty.
Robinson made a bargain that if he saved the Captain from the
mutineers, and recovered the ship, he and Friday were to be taken home
to England in her, free of cost; and to this the Captain and the
others agreed.
Then Robinson gave each of them a musket, with powder and ball, after
which the Captain and the mate and the passenger marched towards the
spot where the mutinous sailors lay asleep. One of the men heard them
advance, and turning round, saw them, and cried out to his companions.
But it was too late, the mate and the passenger fired, and one of the
ringleaders fell dead. A second man also fell, but jumped up
immediately and called to the others to help him. But the Captain
knocked him down with the butt of his musket, and the rest of the
men, seeing Robinson and Friday coming, and knowing they had no chance
against five armed men, begged for mercy. Three others who had been
straying about among the trees came back on hearing the shots, and
were also taken, and thus the whole crew of the boat was captured.
The Captain and Robinson now began to think how they might recover the
ship. There were on board, the Captain said, several men on whom he
thought he could depend, and who had been forced by the others into
the mutiny against their wills. But it would be no easy thing to
retake the ship, for there were still twenty-six men on board, and as
they were guilty of mutiny, all of them, if taken back to England,
would most likely be hanged. Thus they were certain to make a fight
for it.
The first thing that Robinson and the others now did was to take
everything out of the boat--oars, and mast, and sail, and rudder; then
they knocked a hole in her bottom, so that she could not float. While
they were doing this, and drawing her still further up on the beach,
they heard first one gun and then another fired by the ship as signals
to the boat to return.
As she of course did not move, Robinson saw through his glass another
boat with ten men on board, armed with muskets, leave the ship, coming
to bring the others back.
This was serious enough, for now Robinson and his party had to make
plans whereby they might capture also this fresh boat's crew.
Accordingly, they tied the hands of all the men they had first taken,
and sent the worst of them to the cave under the charge of Friday and
of one of the men that the Captain said was to be trusted, with orders
to shoot any who tried to give an alarm or to escape. Then Robinson
took his party and the rest of the prisoners into the castle, where,
from the rock, they watched for the landing of the second boat.
The Captain and mate were very nervous, and despaired of taking this
fresh body of men, but Robinson was quite confident of success, and
put heart into them by his cheerfulness.
Of the prisoners in his castle, there were two whom the Captain
believed to be honest men, and on their promising solemnly to keep
faith, and to fight for him, Robinson released them.
The crew of the second boat, when they landed, were terribly
surprised to find the first boat empty and stove in, and they were
seen anxiously consulting what to do. Then they hallooed and fired
volleys. Getting no reply, they were evidently alarmed, for they all
jumped into their boat and began to pull off to the ship. In a few
minutes, however, they seemed to change their minds, for again they
landed, this time leaving three men in charge of the boat, and keeping
her in the water. The other seven came ashore, and started in a body
across the island to look for their lost comrades. But they did not
care to go far, and soon stopped, again firing volleys and hallooing.
Getting again no reply, they began to march back to the sea. Whereupon
Robinson ordered Friday and the mate to go over the creek to the west
and halloo loudly, and wait till the sailors answered. Then Friday and
the mate were to go further away and again halloo, thus gradually
getting the men to follow them away from shore.
This plan succeeded very well, for when the sailors, thinking they
heard their missing friends hail, ran to find them, their way was
stopped by the creek, over which they had to get the boat to carry
them. They took with them, then, one of the three men whom they had
left in the boat, and ordered the others to moor the boat to a tree,
and remain there.
This was just what Robinson wanted. And, moreover, one of the men
played still further into his hands, for he left the boat and lay down
under a tree to sleep. On him the Captain rushed, and knocked him down
as he tried to rise to his feet, whereupon the sailor left in the boat
yielded, and more readily that he had joined the mutineers very
unwillingly, and was now glad of the chance to rejoin his Captain.
Meantime Friday and the mate, by hallooing and answering, drew the
rest of the boat's crew from hill to hill through the woods, till at
last they had got them so far astray that it was not possible for them
to find their way back before dark. When they did get back to where
the boat had been left, and found the men whom they had left in her
gone, they were in a terrible fright.
It was not difficult for Robinson and his men to surround them, and
it chanced that the boatswain of the ship, who was the greatest
villain of the lot, and the chief cause of all the trouble, walked in
the darkness close to the Captain, who jumped up and shot him dead.
The others then surrendered, believing what they were told, that they
were surrounded by fifty armed men. All begged hard for their lives,
and a few whom the Captain said he could trust were set at liberty on
promising to help retake the ship. The others were bound and put in
the cave.
Robinson and Friday remained on shore to look after the prisoners,
while the Captain and the mate and the passenger, with those of the
crew who were trustworthy, having patched up the damaged boat, pulled
off in her and in the other to the ship, which they reached about
midnight. When they were a short distance off, the Captain made one of
the crew hail the ship and say that they had brought off the boat and
the men they had gone in search of. Then both boats ran alongside at
once, one on each side of the vessel, and before the mutineers knew
what was happening they were overpowered, one or two of them being
killed. Only one of the Captain's party was hurt, the mate, whose arm
was broken by a musket-ball.
As soon as the ship was secured, the Captain ordered seven guns to be
fired, that being the signal he had agreed to make to let Robinson
know if he succeeded in taking the ship.
Robinson's stay in the island had now come to an end, after more than
twenty-eight years, for in a few days he and Friday sailed for England
in the ship. Some of the mutineers were left on the island, and were
afterwards joined by the Spaniard and his comrades, for whom Robinson
left a letter.
Robinson did not forget, when he left, to take with him the money and
gold bars he had got from the wreck of the Spanish ship, and he took
also, as a memento, the goatskin coat and the great hairy hat. But the
Captain was able before the ship sailed to give him proper clothing,
the wearing of which at first put him to dreadful discomfort.
The voyage was a long one, but they sighted the English coast at last.
It was thirty-five years since Robinson had set foot in England. And
that morning, when at last, after the weary years of exile, he again
saw his native land, he laid his head down on his arms and cried like
a child.
And, may be, you too some day may know the joy of coming home, out of
the land of bondage.
CANTERBURY TALES
By GEOFFREY CHAUCER
ADAPTED BY JANET HARVEY KELMAN
I
DORIGEN
Once upon a time a young knight, whose name was Arviragus, dwelt in
Brittany. In the same country lived a beautiful lady called Dorigen.
And the knight loved the lady.
For years Arviragus did not know whether she loved him or not. She was
a great lady and very fair, and he was afraid to ask her. But she knew
that he loved her, for when he rode past her window on his way to the
wars, she could see her colors streaming from his helmet. At first she
did not think much of this, for many knights fought for love of her;
but as she heard of new and greater deeds that this noble knight did
year by year, she began to care for him a great deal. When she thought
of his goodness and of the honor in which he held her, she knew that
there was no one else that she could love as she loved Arviragus. And
when Arviragus knew that she loved him and was willing to be his wife,
his heart was full of joy. So greatly did he wish to make Dorigen
happy with him, that he said to her that he would obey her and do what
she wished as gladly all his life as he had done while he was trying
to win her love. To this she replied:
"Sir, since in thy great gentleness thou givest me so high a place, I
pray to God that there may never be strife between us two by any fault
of mine. Sir, I will be thy true and humble wife until I die!"
Then Arviragus took his bride home with him to his castle by the sea.
He honored Dorigen as much as he had done before his marriage, and
tried to fulfil her wishes in everything. Dorigen was just as eager to
please Arviragus as he was to please her, and they were happy together
in all their work and play.
Arviragus stayed quietly at home for a year, but after that he grew
restless. He felt that no true knight had a right to live on quietly
at home, with nothing to do except to order his castle and to hunt. So
he sailed away to England that he might win honor and renown in the
wars there.
Dorigen stood by the castle and watched his sails disappear in the
north. Poor Dorigen! her husband was gone, and she did not know if he
would ever come back to her. For weeks she wept and mourned. At night
she could not rest, and by day she would not eat. All the things that
she had cared most to do were now dull and worthless to her because
Arviragus was away.
Her friends saw her sorrow, and tried to comfort her in every way they
could. When they found she would not be comforted, they spoke harshly
to her, and told her that it was very wrong of her to kill herself
with sorrow, when Arviragus hoped to come home again strong and
famous. Then they began to comfort her again, and to try to make her
forget her sadness.
After a long time Dorigen's sorrow began to grow quieter. She could
not have lived if she had always felt her grief as deeply as she did
at first. Indeed, as it was, this sorrow would have broken her heart,
if letters had not come from Arviragus. They brought her tidings of
his doings, and of the glory he had won. But what comforted her most
was that they told her that he would soon return.
When Dorigen's friends saw that she was less hopeless, they begged her
to come and roam with them to drive away the last of her dark fears.
This she did. Often she walked with them by the edge of the cliffs on
which her castle stood. But there she saw the white ships and the
brown barges sailing, one north, another south, to the havens for
which they were bound. Then she would turn away from her friends and
say to herself:
"Alas! of all the ships I see, is there never one that will bring my
lord home? Then should I need no comfort. My heart would be cured of
this bitter smart."
At times as she sat and thought, she leaned down and looked over the
brink of the cliffs. But, when she saw the grisly, black rocks, her
very heart trembled within her. Then she would sink down on the grass
and wail:
"O God, men say Thou hast made nothing in vain, but, Lord, why hast
Thou made these black, grisly rocks? No man nor beast is helped by
them in all the world. Rocks have destroyed a hundred thousand men,
and which of all Thy works is so fair as man? No doubt wise men will
say, 'All is for the best.' But, oh Thou God, who makest the winds to
blow, keep Thou my lord! And--would to God that these black rocks were
sunk in the deep for his sake! They slay my heart with fear."
Dorigen's friends saw that the sea brought back her sorrow. They led
her then by rivers and springs, and took her to every lovely place
they knew, from which there was no glimpse of the sea.
In the valley, to landward of the castle, lay many beautiful gardens.
One day in May, when the soft showers of spring had painted in
brightest colors the leaves and flowers, they spent the whole day in
the fairest of these gardens. They had games there, and they dined
under a spreading tree. The breath of the fresh green leaves and the
sweet scent of the flowers blew round them.
After dinner they began to dance and sing--every one except Dorigen.
She had no heart to sing, and she would not dance because, of all who
joined in the dance, not one was Arviragus. But, though she would not
dance, she watched her friends and sometimes forgot her sorrow for a
little.
Among the dancers there was a young squire named Aurelius. He was much
beloved because he was young, and strong, and handsome. Men thought
him wise and good, but he was not always wise and good.
When the dancing was over, Aurelius came up to Dorigen and asked her
to give him a beautiful jewel that she wore on her breast. He said to
her, "Madam, of what use is thy jewel to thee when thou wearest it on
thy bosom? Give it to me, and I will share with thee the price of it."
Dorigen turned and gazed at him.
"Is this what thou dost wish? I knew not what thou didst mean when
thou didst look at me, but now I know. Listen, this is all I have to
say to thee. I shall never part with my jewel, not though I were in
rags and without food."
Then she remembered how Arviragus had loved to see her wear her jewel,
as she always did, on a chain of gold that he had given to her on her
wedding day. She thought of the sea that separated him from her, and
of the cruel black rocks, and said in play:
"Aurelius, I will freely give thee my jewel when thou dost remove
every rock on the shore from end to end of Brittany."
Then her anger at the selfishness of Aurelius rose again, and she bade
him begone.
"Madam," he said, "it is impossible to move the rocks."
With that word he turned away, and went home to his own house. There
his brother Austin found him in a trance, for Aurelius wished
Dorigen's jewel more than he wished anything else on earth, and the
thought that he could not get it made him so sad that he became dazed.
Austin carried him to bed, and tried to soothe him in his grief and
vexation.
The jewel that Aurelius wished to get from Dorigen was no common one.
It had been given to her at her birth. It was clear as crystal, but
far more rare, and it shone in the daylight like the sun. When Dorigen
was a little child her mother told her of this wonderful stone. She
told her that it would bring her joy and peace and the love of all who
were good and true, if she kept it bright and pure; but that, if she
ever gave it away, she would lose her youth and her beauty, and would
be hidden away from all her friends and left alone in the world.
Dorigen shuddered at the thought of parting with her jewel. She did
not know how her mother's words could come to pass, if she did give it
away, nor by what magic power she could be so lost that no one who
loved her could find her again. But she was sure that what her mother
had said must be true.
And that was why Dorigen was so angry with Aurelius. She knew that he
must have heard what sorrow she would suffer if she gave him her
jewel, for all the court knew the story of the wonderful stone.
Not long after this, Arviragus came home. He had won more honor than
before, and was now the very flower of chivalry. I cannot tell you how
great the joy was, with which he greeted Dorigen, nor how soon she
forgot her fears of the sea and the grisly rocks.
For two years, while they lived a joyful life together, Aurelius lay
in bed unable to rise, with no one to take care of him except his
brother Austin. This brother mourned over Aurelius in secret and wept
at his unhappy fate, till one day he remembered a book of magic that
he had seen when he was a student in Orleans. In that book he had read
of the strange ways in which Magicians can make things seem what they
are not. His heart leapt up. He said to himself, "My brother shall be
cured. I am sure I have heard of stranger things than that the rocks
should seem to vanish. Once I heard of a Magician who made every one
believe that a great brown barge was rowing up and down a sheet of
water inside the hall of a castle! If he could do that, then surely we
shall be able to find a Magician who will make those black rocks seem
to vanish. Then Dorigen will have to keep her promise and give
Aurelius her wonderful jewel."
Austin then ran to his brother's room and told him about the book of
magic at Orleans. No sooner had Aurelius heard him than he leapt out
of bed. In less time than one would think possible he was ready to
start on the long ride to Orleans.
When they came near the city they met a Magician. They knew him to be
a Magician because of the strange look in his eyes, and because of his
curious dress. When they rode up to him he bowed before them and
wished them "Good day." Then he began to tell them why they had come
to Orleans. Aurelius wondered how it was that this stranger knew so
much about him and his errand. He thought he must be a very wise man
indeed, and leaping from his horse in surprise and joy, he went home
with the Magician to his house. His brother went too.
The house was the finest that Aurelius had ever seen. When he entered
the study he looked in wonder at the rows of books that lined the
walls, and at the quaint pictures and the strange old armor.
In one corner a curious light burned. It was not like the light of a
lamp or of a candle, but cold and blue. Above it hung a map of the
stars, and other strange drawings. Below the light stood a table, and
on it lay a great book which was chained to the wall.
Austin saw Aurelius look at this book. He whispered to him, "It is the
same book from which I read long ago."
This corner with its blue light made Aurelius frightened. A shudder
passed over him when he saw the Magician cross over into the circle of
the light and wave his wand.
In a moment Aurelius forgot all about the Magician and his own fear,
for he and his brother saw before them the edge of a forest with a
park stretching from the trees far, far away.
The sun shone, and the branches waved a little in the breeze. In the
park the brothers saw herds of deer. Beautiful animals they were, with
the highest antlers deer ever had. At first the deer fed in peace and
safety. Then archers, clad in green, came to the edge of the forest.
They glided out and in among the trees to see where they could best
take aim with their arrows. When the archers had let their arrows fly,
hounds broke out from behind them, and soon there was not one living
deer of all the herd left in sight.
In a moment a calm river flowed where the park had been. In the
shallow water at the river's edge tall herons stood. They watched for
the little fishes that swam in the river. Again, into this quiet place
a hunter came. He had no arrows. He had no dogs. But on his wrist he
had an iron bracelet to which one end of a chain was fastened. The
other end of the chain was round a hawk's foot, and the hawk sat on
his master's wrist. When the hunter came near the river he loosed the
chain from the bird's foot. The hawk flew over the river and swooped
down among the herons. In a moment they had all vanished.
Aurelius had scarcely time to sigh, when the river itself was gone,
and a plain lay where it had been. There he saw the knights of King
Arthur's Table jousting. Beautiful ladies sat and watched the
struggle, and one more fair than all held the prizes the knights might
win.
Then the figures of the knights began to grow dim and uncertain. The
plain changed into a great hall where knights and ladies danced.
Everything was bright and sparkling. Mirrors lined the walls, and
their cut edges flashed back the light that fell on them. As Aurelius
watched the dance, he started. There, before him, more beautiful than
ever, was Dorigen. His heart gave a great leap, for, as he watched
her, he saw that she no longer wore her jewel. In his delight he
swayed to the music of the dance. Clap! clap! went the Magician's
hands, and all was gone.
The great room that had seemed so splendid to Aurelius when he entered
it, looked cold and plain now when he returned to it from fairyland.
The Magician called his servant and asked for supper. Then he led the
brothers away and feasted them royally.
After supper the three men began to talk about what the Magician
should get from Aurelius if he made the rocks vanish. The Magician
said, "I cannot take less than a thousand pounds, and I am not sure if
I can do it for that!" Aurelius was too delighted to bargain about
what the cost would be. He said gladly: "What is a thousand pounds? I
would give thee the whole round world, if I were lord of it. The
bargain is made. Thou shalt be paid in full. But do not delay. Let us
start to-morrow morning without fail."
"Thou mayest count on me to-morrow," said the Magician.
They went to bed, and Aurelius slept soundly and well; because of the
hope he had that the Magician would make the rocks vanish.
Next morning they rose early. It was Christmas time, and the air was
cold and frosty as they rode away. The very sunlight was pale, and the
trees were bare. When they reached home the neighbors gathered round
and wished them a Merry Christmas. "Noel, Noel," they said, but they
would not have done so had they known what sorrow the riders brought
to their beautiful lady Dorigen.
For many days the Magician worked with his maps and figures. Aurelius
waited impatiently. There was nothing for him to do except to make the
Magician as comfortable as he could, and to show him as much kindness
as possible.
One morning Aurelius looked from his window towards the sea. He saw
the Magician standing on the shore. As Aurelius gazed out to sea, the
rocks vanished from north to south. His heart stood still. Then he
rushed out and away to the edge of the cliffs for fear some rocks
might still lie close to the land. But no, there was not one.
He went to meet the Magician and fell at his feet with the words,
"Thanks to thee, my lord, thanks to thee, my cares are gone!"
After he had thanked the Wise Man, he hurried away to meet Dorigen.
When he saw her he trembled. She was so pure and beautiful. His heart
sank. Then he looked out to sea and saw the smooth surface of the
water, and he grew selfish again.
Dorigen came quietly on. She had not noticed that the rocks had
vanished, for Arviragus was safe on land, and she did not fear the sea
any more. She had almost forgotten Aurelius and his selfish, greedy
words. It was more than two years since she had seen him, and she had
not heard of him since then.
She started back when he greeted her. Before she had time to speak he
said, "My lady, give me thy jewel."
He saw Dorigen's face grow cold and angry, and said, "Think well lest
thou break thy word, for, madam, thou knowest well what thou didst
say. In yonder garden in the month of May thou didst promise to give
me thy jewel when I should move the rocks. I speak to save thine
honor. I have done as thou didst command me. Go thou and see if thou
wilt, but well I know the rocks are vanished."
He left her then. She stood still, white and sick. She had never
dreamt that such a trap as this could close on her.
"Alas," she said, "that such a thing could happen! I never thought a
thing so strange and unheard-of could come to pass!"
Home she went in sadness and dismay. She was so weak with fear that
she could scarcely walk. She had to suffer her sorrow alone for three
days, for Arviragus was away, and she would tell no one but him. Her
ladies saw her distress, but they could not comfort her. To herself
she moaned, "Alas, O Fortune, I lay the blame on thee; thou hast so
bound me in thy chain, that I see no help nor escape save only in
death."